


Trouble, meet Trouble

by Tobi_Black



Series: Waking Dreams [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Baba Yaga the Cat, Gen, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobi_Black/pseuds/Tobi_Black
Summary: How Steve met Becca





	Trouble, meet Trouble

Steve had still been riding the high of meeting Bucky when his ma took him to church on Sunday.

He’d made his confessions – he didn’t feel bad for kicking Lenny from down the block in the shin for calling one of his neighbors, a little redheaded girl named Sharlene, a freckled pig, though he had felt bad that the busted lip and new black eye he’d gotten before Bucky had shown up had made the other boy flail about in concern, and his mother worry – but she hadn’t yet.

Like always in memory, she needed a long time to confess – she’d told him about how she was supposed to feel bad for calling men lots of bad names, for being dumbasses and getting hurt and wasting precious medical supplies because they were big babies, and for being unable to say anything when she later saw their wives hurting badly because their men beat them but refused to waste money to have them see a doctor, but she wasn’t, so she had to talk to the priest for a _long time_.

(He never did figure out why sometimes he would see these women in the apartment with his mother and then never again.

Not for a long time anyway.)

As typical of when his mother had a long confession, she told him to go play out in front of the church.

He’d brought his sketchbook, his prize possession as his ma had gotten it for him his last birthday and she’d spent good money to get him it, and he had been sketching the other kids, practicing drawing people. He’d been drawing and erasing for an hour, trying to get the proportions right, when a little girl, maybe a year younger than him but already nearly a head taller, marched over to him.

She was frowning, and angrily tugging at her skirt, starting right in, “Baba Yaga is stuck in a tree, and _Mama_ says I can’t climb trees in this dress. I don’t know where my brother is, and none of the other boys are willing to help.”

Steve was tucking his sketchbook in his jacket even before she finished, “I’ll help. Where’s Baba Yaga?”. She smiled, pleased, and grabbed his hand before tugging him off towards the twisted little apple tree the priest ended to each morning, “Thank you! Baba Yaga is just a kitten, and she must be so scared so high up. I know I would be if I was so small.”

He tried to keep up with her, but was being all but dragged along because not only was she strong but her longer legs were moving quickly in her eagerness to get her cat down.

She stopped in front of the tree, and really, it was not a very tall tree, but it was easily thrice his height, and there _was_ a small dark long-haired cat in one of the highest branches, eyeing the bird’s nest further out. He eyed the cat, then the tree. Considering how twisted the tree was, there were lots of spots for him to step and clutch to climb up, but he wasn’t sure how well he could do it one-handed when bringing the cat back down.

The cat eyed them with a flat stare in her one eye, the other one and half of the ear closest to it gone from a scrap with a dog, and proceeded to lay down on the branch after she saw the nest was empty.

Steve had gotten halfway up the tree, calling out, “Kitty, kitty please come closer,” trying to reach up to the cat as the branch he was trying to shimmy up wasn’t much thicker than his leg, when there was a loud female voice behind him, “ _OH MY GOD STEVE! Get down RIGHT NOW!_ ”

The priest’s sister, a woman dedicated to her faith and just her faith, came rushing out of the church with her skirt raised halfway up her calves after she caught a glimpse of Steve in the tree through a window.

Steve’s face scrunched up in stubbornness, still reaching out for the cat, who had flicked an ear at the woman’s pitch but otherwise looked like it could care less about what was happening.

The branch he was on right then let out a loud _crack_.

He _may_ have screamed a little as he fell.

Something broke his fall. Or more accurately, _someone_ broke his fall.

He’d been half-caught, half-cushioned from hitting the ground, to lay sprawled across Bucky who’d tried to catch him and half-failed in the attempt.

Bucky grumbled something under his breathe in a language he didn’t know – didn’t catch anyway – before raising an eyebrow, “Ya know, I was telling my _Mama_ about you, and the priest overheard and told us you were trouble. Capital T. Not because you are bad, but because you are always doing things your body can’t handle even when the spirit is willing.” – then he sighed, a hint of long-suffering in it – “I should have _known_ Trouble would have attracted Trouble, and you’d meet my sister Becca.”

Becca, didn’t look the least bit repentant for being called Trouble, even as she looked over concernedly at Steve, puffing up a bit defensively, “Baba Yaga was in trouble and I couldn’t find you. He was the only one willing to help.”

Bucky gave her a long flat look, then looked up at where the cat was just _sitting_ , looking completely unconcerned as she licked her paw, “Yeah, trouble. Sure, whatever you say.” – before looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow, a conspiring glint in his eyes – “I don’t think she realizes this, but that cat is a _she-devil_. She can take care of herself _quite_ fine without interference from us. There’s a reason _Mama_ named her _Baba Yaga_.”


End file.
